Unanswered Prayers
by Fivetimesthelove
Summary: Missing scene from S7 episode Flesh and Blood. After his father's departure, Tony seeks the help of a trusted friend to help reconcile the painful memories of his past.


**Disclaimer:- **I do not own NCIS or any of its characters. Any copyright infringement is unintentional.

A/N:- This story is a missing scene from the S7 episode **Flesh and Blood. **It takes place after Tony drops his father at the airport and before he arrives at Gibbs' house. As a young Mum with five young children, I could not bring myself to write DiNozzo Senior as a physically abusive father as is the popular view. Instead, he is depicted a man who had no idea how to be a dad to a grieving boy. Liz

**Unanswered Prayers**

The sliding doors hissed open as Tony entered the darkened autopsy room. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and then sighed deeply. It was getting late and he had wanted to speak with Ducky before heading over to Gibbs' house. He hadn't told Gibbs to expect him but he knew his boss well enough to know that he'd be waiting for him to arrive.

Looking further into the cavernous room, he saw the desk lamp was on in the ME's office, though there appeared to be nobody there. He took two steps further into the room when a cheerful voice sounded from behind him.

"Hey Tony!"

The volume and suddenness of the greeting, almost sent him into orbit and fleetingly, he pondered the damage to his hard-fought tough guy image should he give in to his urge to scream like a woman. He spun on his heel in the direction of the voice; his hand reflexively moved to his heart to ensure it hadn't jumped from his body into one of the autoclavable bowls to await dissection.

"Geez, Palmer, don't do that!" he hissed between tightly clenched teeth.

"Don't say hello?" Jimmy said frowning in confusion.

"No! Don't sneak up behind me…especially not here!"

A broad smile appeared on the young ME assistant's face.

"Don't tell me, that after all these years, Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo is still unnerved by the autopsy room," Palmer goaded playfully.

"No…of course not…are you kidding?" Tony lied. "I'm a highly trained federal agent, Palmer, trained to use force to defend myself…I could have killed you dead."

"Uh huh," the younger man said, not buying the answer for a minute.

Tony noticed the absence of Palmer's usual blue scrubs and how smartly he was dressed.

"You're looking pretty sharp there, Jimbo, gotta a hot date?"

"Actually, yes, Breena and I have theatre tickets courtesy of Doctor Mallard. I was just leaving but if you need something…"

"Nah…I was hoping to talk to Ducky but it looks like he's already left so…"

"Oh, he hasn't left," Jimmy said. "A hearse has arrived to collect Ensign Rachel Grey. Doctor Mallard's just stepped outside to speak with her husband and the funeral director."

n~c~i~s~~~~n~c~i~s~~~n~c~i~s~~~n~c~i~s~~~n~c~i~s

'_I want my father!' __the inconsolable young boy cried._

_'Your father is busy, Anthony,' the housekeeper replied kindly. 'He's just stepped outside to speak with the funeral director.'_

n~c~i~s~~~~n~c~i~s~~~n~c~i~s~~~n~c~i~s~~~n~c~i~s

"Tony?…Tony, are you okay?"

Palmer's concerned voice broke through Tony's musings.

"Ah…yeah, I'm fine…I, ah, just remembered something, that's all. Hey, don't let me hold you up, I'll just wait here for Ducky."

Palmer's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing his friend was a little out of sorts.

"Want some company?" he asked tentatively. "I can wait with you."

"Palmer…through some cruel twist of fate that I am _still_ trying to fathom, you managed to score a hot chick like Breena. I will not be responsible for the ass kicking you'll get if you miss the opening act," Tony joked. "Besides, I have…company."

He nodded to the morgue drawers and grimaced slightly trying to allay Palmer's concern. It worked; Jimmy smiled at his friend then headed for the door.

"I'll see you later then," the ME assistant replied as he paused briefly for a parting remark. "You know, Tony, it's not the dead you need to worry about, it's the living that can hurt you."

Tony watched as Palmer stepped into the elevator then he looked around the room. He ran his fingers along the pristine silver autopsy table where, countless times, he had watched as Ducky dissected a bowel or used a soup ladle to extract the stomach contents of a victim. Admittedly, he still cringed slightly when the ME proficiently opened a chest cavity with a pair of shears or expertly handled a Stryker saw to remove a skullcap – some things you just never got used to. But Palmer was right; after all these years he still found it a little unnerving to visit the almost spiritual sanctuary of the autopsy room at night.

'_It's the living that can hurt you.'_

"You got that right, Palmer," Tony muttered, remembering the man's earlier statement.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of hushed voices echoing softly down the corridor from the loading bay. Recognising Ducky's British lilt, Tony walked toward the voices. Not wanting to intrude, he stood in the doorway watching as Ducky assisted the funeral director to load the coffin, into the back of the hearse. But it was the unexpected sight of a man holding a sobbing young boy caught Tony off-guard.

The boy, who looked to be about seven or eight, had his arms wrapped around his father's neck while his legs held on securely around his waist. His head was tucked beneath his father's chin and Tony felt his chest tighten as the man rested his cheek upon the child's head and rubbed the boy's back in soothing circular motions. When the boy's breathing hitched, the man dropped a kiss in his son's dark hair and whispered soft words of comfort.

Tony felt a surge of emotion and frowned at his lack of professional decorum. What was it about this boy that was so different to the many similar scenes he'd seen during his years in law enforcement? He'd witnessed this type of grief too many times before – families mourning the loss of a husband, a father, brother or son, a daughter, a sister, wife or…a mother.

As his emotions toward this boy threatened to overwhelm him, he took a deep breath and tried to identify them. He understood the feelings of sadness and loss - the day he stopped feeling for the families of victims was the day he'd hand in his badge. He accepted the strong feeling of empathy. But it was the fleeting feeling of raw envy for this grieving child that shocked and disturbed him most. The realisation struck him like a fist as he recognised his envy stemmed from the physical comfort the boy was receiving from his father - comfort and solace that Tony had been denied when he'd lost his mother at a similar age.

In his darkest hours, this boy knew he was not alone. Wrapped securely in his father's arms the boy had been allowed to openly grieve for his mother while receiving the affection and loving support of his father. The young Tony had been denied such comfort and support and strenuously reminded that DiNozzo men don't cry.

Tony shook his head quickly to disengage the vivid memories that had assailed him since the unexpected arrival and subsequent departure of his father. Sensing that he was being watched, he looked up to into a pair of shimmering green eyes and a small tear-stained face and immediately the envy dissipated. Their eyes locked as they experienced a moment of shared grief. The boy's lower lip trembled with emotion then firmed again as he attempted a brave smile. Tony felt his heart lurch and replied with a sad smile of his own.

The boy's father spoke briefly with Ducky before carrying the boy to a waiting car. Tony was still watching the departing tail lights when Ducky's gentle hand on his forearm startled him from his thoughts.

"Anthony? I was led to believe you were spending some time with your father," the ME said, noting the younger man's pale complexion. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Tony lied, as his failed attempt at the stock standard DiNozzo smile looked more like a grimace. "Dad's on his way to Monte Carlo."

"I see!" Ducky replied, mildly surprised. "If you don't mind me saying, my boy, you seem a little distracted."

"Distracted? Me? No…I'm not distracted…What?"

Ducky smiled ruefully, knowing from experience that Tony rarely sought him out without good cause. It wasn't difficult to conclude that the 'good cause' had just left town heading for Monte Carlo and, not for the first time, had left his son conflicted and troubled.

"Come," Ducky said, steering the agent back toward his office. "The sun is well over the yardarm and I've a bottle of pure malt whisky in my office. I think we could use a dram, hmmm?"

A man of infinite patience, Ducky poured the drinks as he waited for Tony to find his voice. He wondered briefly why the younger man had sought his counsel rather than that of Gibbs, until he realised that when it came to matters concerning Tony and his father, Gibbs was not known for his impartiality and objectivity.

The ME began a monologue of some of his past travels, knowing with certainty that there was little point in pushing Tony before he was ready to speak. He was retelling his encounter with the rare New Guinea singing dog when Tony finally spoke. His words burst forth like water from a ruptured dam wall.

"He told me he loved me, Ducky," he said with a humourless laugh. "First time I _ever_ heard those words from him."

"Anthony…"

"Why now? I mean, why wait till I'm a grown man? Why couldn't he have told me when I was a scared little kid and I thought he didn't give a damn about me? Or when he packed me off to school so he didn't have to deal with me while he attended to his business deals…and we all know how well they turned out."

Ducky remained silent, realising the younger man needed to vent.

"It was all a lie, all of it," Tony said, taking another sip of whisky and feeling the heat of the alcohol all the way to his stomach.

"As hard as it was for me, I could_ almost _accept that he sent me to school so he could concentrate on his business ventures and now I find out that he's been broke for years. For years! I can't believe I never knew that! I guess when it comes to my old man I'm not the best judge of what's real and what's not."

"To a certain extent, all of us show the world only what we want them to see," Ducky reasoned. "You of all people should know that, young man."

Suitably chastened, Tony placed the whisky glass back on the desk, got to his feet and began to pace.

"Oh, and don't get me started on the step-mothers! Did I tell you I had another one…step-mother, I mean…doesn't really matter, turns out she was just another notch on the old man's belt…I can't help wondering if he ever really loved my mother."

"Stop right there!" Ducky scolded. "I will not let you punish yourself this way, Anthony! If I recollect correctly, you told me some time ago that your parents were very much in love before your dear mother's passing."

"Then how do you explain the long procession of Mrs Anthony DiNozzo Senior's since my mother died?"

"He's still grieving, my boy, and he's still searching," Ducky replied.

"For what?"

"Searching for the love he shared with your mother; a love from which you were created. Some men never really come to terms with the loss of their soul-mate. You only have to look at our own Leroy Jethro Gibbs to know that."

"I could have helped him, Ducky, if he'd let me! We could have helped each other but he sent me away! All this time I thought he was a rich and successful businessman and he wasn't. Why would he do that? Why would he lie?"

Ducky smiled kindly.

"I can only speculate, of course, but I would venture that little Anthony DiNozzo junior was as inquisitive and intuitive as a boy as he is now. Perhaps your father sent you to school so he'd be free to run his dubious business activities without you around to see through his charade? He _needed_ you to see him as a successful man."

Tony flopped back into the chair.

"I'd rather have had a regular dad," he said resignedly.

"And that was your father's greatest mistake, Anthony," Ducky continued. "One that I believe he has finally come to understand. He was so busy providing what he thought you needed, he forgot to ask you what you really wanted and both of you needlessly grieved alone. Don't get me wrong, I am not for one moment condoning his behaviour toward you during or since that dreadfully difficult time. His absence in your life was truly reprehensible. And now, after all these years, he realises he wants to be a good father and he's shocked to find that role in your life has been filled by someone else. What I'm saying, my boy, is that any man can become a father, it is much more difficult to be a dad."

Tony agitated the remaining whisky in his glass, watching as the deep gold liquid swirled. The two men sat in companionable silence as they reflected on their conversation.

"You know, Ducky, when I was a kid…I used to pray every night that I would grow up just like my father…successful, smart a respected businessman. He wanted me to major in business studies and go to some Ivy League college, so in my senior year of high school I worked my ass off to lift my grades and I topped my class in math. I _hated_ math but I couldn't wait to tell him…to see his face."

Tony took another sip of whisky and his gaze drifted to his feet.

"How did he take the news?"

"I never told him," Tony choked out a laugh that owed nothing to humour. "I hitched a ride home to surprise him and…well…I really surprised him – entertaining prospective stepmother number three while he was still married to stepmother number two."

"Oh dear."

"He reamed me out for barging in and kicked my ass back to school. That was when I decided to do what _I_ wanted to do with my life. I got accepted into Ohio State, majored in Phys Ed and joined the police force. All those years of praying...guess the man upstairs just wasn't listening."

"Perhaps He was listening, my boy, but chose not to act."

"You lost me Duck," Tony said with a frown.

"The road you eventually chose to follow, led you here to us, your new family of sorts and to a man who has filled the paternal role in your life. Unanswered prayers, Anthony, are often life's greatest gifts."

Tony offered the older man a genuine smile.

"That out of one of your philosophy books, Ducky? Don't tell me, let me guess, it's Plato, no Aristotle!"

Ducky's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Actually, dear boy, I read it on a fortune cookie from Jin Lee's Yum Cha Palace," he confessed unabashed before raising his glass to meet Tony's in a toast.

"To families and unanswered prayers!"

**THE END**

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Thank you to **Laine** and **Lyn1410g**, my guiding lights. And, of course, to **Mokibobolink** and her wonderful FanFiction blog for the helpful writing tips and the encouragement to write my second FanFiction story. I hope you enjoyed it, Liz


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